


Solidarity

by ikkka



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Bisexual Character, Bisexual Male Character, Bonding, Canon Lesbian Character, Expiration Date, F/F, Ficlet, Friendship, Homophobia, Lesbian Character, Lesbophobia, M/M, Molars, One Shot, Period-Typical Homophobia, Teeth, because y'know, bi/lesbian solidarity, but the archive warning is there anyway, there's nothing like bonding over defiling corpses, things don't get too gory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-10 11:19:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17424893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikkka/pseuds/ikkka
Summary: "Miss Pauling has to pull out the molars of the corpses the RED team were sent out to murder: a job she's done millions of times. This time, though, millions of time isn't exactly what she has. Absolutely pressed and wanted to avoid Scout at all costs, Pauling gets Spy to help her."This was practice for me with writing Miss Pauling, so I'm sorry if she sounds out of character. This was a cute lil' idea I had for a while, following the headcanon I have that Spy is bisexual (specifically with a preference for women, but that doesn't come up in this.)





	Solidarity

**Author's Note:**

> this is really shitty sorry lol

Miss Pauling had the table covered and set up by the time Spy had arrived.

 

Black heavy-duty garbage bags were layered upon the surface of the dingy metal table, stuck there with duct tape. The ground underneath the table had bags taped to it, too. On the table was another bag, yet this time it was propped open and had contents inside it, as well as another bag, propped open but empty. Two pairs of pliers, a small box, and an ashtray were there, too. All in all, everything they would need was there.

  
  
"Alright," Miss Pauling announced, looking up to Spy, who was now beside her, "I see you've got your gear on, I don't see any more reason to delay!"

  
  
This 'gear' consisted of translucent recycling bags taped all over Spy's poor, expensive suit. It also included complimentary bags taped to his calves, covering his feet (and stopping footprints if Spy steps in blood), as well as gloves. Of course, Miss Pauling had all of this on her as well. It was crude and cheap and awful, and Spy ever felt more violated in his entire life, but it got the job done.

  
  
"I would like to voice just how much I am already hating this. I feel like I'm wearing a makeshift HAZMAT suit made by a 6 year old."

  
  
"Think you could make better?" Miss Pauling retorted.

  
  
Spy rolled his eyes. Miss Pauling smirked.  


 

"Then stop complaining and let's get this done and over with."

 

"Just because I cannot make better, does not mean I am blind to mediocrity when I see it." Spy smirked back.

  
  
It was Miss Pauling's turn to roll her eyes. "Here," she said, reaching into the bag with the contents, "Start plucking."

  
  
Spy was barely able to catch the decapitated head.

  
  
He knew he was going to be working with heads and teeth for the duration of the night. After all, he had agreed to take Scout's place when Miss Pauling practically begged him to. However, holding the heads in his hands and being able to smell their stench and stare into their dead, dull eyes, still was a bit of a shock. Even if Spy was desensitized to postmortem, being so intimate and close to it was still unsettling; and it didn't help that these heads were so close to his own teammates'. Specifically, he was holding Sniper's. It was unsettling. He was still human, after all. He didn't have grounds to complain, though, so he complied and picked up the second pair of pliers.

  
  
Silence ensued for a moment. Spy placed the head down on the table and began work trying to get a good grip on a molar.

  
  
"You would think the Administrator would at least give you the tools to complete your tasks easily," Spy finally responds, "but I suppose not."

  
  
Miss Pauling sighed, holding the decapitated head's mouth open with one hand, and worming the pliers into it with the other.

  
  
"She gives me an 100k salary and a shotgun, I can't complain."

  
  
Spy manages to grab the back molar and he tugs, but the pliers slip and he doesn't get the tooth.

  
  
"And yet you still complain when your only help was Scout?"

  
  
Miss Pauling shuddered. "Ew. I'd rather do it alone."

  
  
Spy chuckled, "It is amusing how much you detest that man, although I most certainly do not blame you for it."

  
  
After a few attempts to yank the molar out with adequate force, Spy finally managed to get it out. However, he also managed to chip one of the head's front teeth with the plier handle when he yanked back. It didn't matter though, and Spy let out a small affirmation of victory. One molar down, five more to go. After gently putting the removed molar in the designated tooth box, Spy tried his hand at the second molar.

  
  
Miss Pauling was already four molars in. She was almost done with her first head, that being Medic's. Spy didn't want to know how many times it took doing this to be able to pull out the molars so quickly and effortlessly.

  
  
"The problem is," she started, "he likes me. A lot. And it's extremely awkward."

  
  
A small moment of silence ensued again. Miss Pauling took that as her queue to continue.

  
  
"You're a good friend of mine, Spy," she stated, looking up at him with a faint smile. "You know more about me than anybody else in the world does. And I suppose it's a bit weird that I'm placing my trust in a man who's job is to keep secrets and blackmail material, but it's already done. You know I... I don't like guys. But how do I tell that to Scout? I've expressed disinterest before and he won't get the hint. He's persistent, I'll give him that, but I'm just _not interested_ , y'know?"

  
  
Spy nodded. “I understand.”

 

“And, besides,” Miss Pauling continued again, “other women with my kind of… orientation… are treated so unfairly. I’m lucky to be in a job position where what sex I want to spend the rest of my life with doesn’t matter.”

 

Spy manages to finally yank the second molar now, and he thinks he’s starting to understand how to get the hang of things. Miss Pauling, having pulled out all the molars in her first head, tossed the head down into the bag waiting underneath the table. She reached into the designated ‘head bag’ for her second.

 

“Not like I have the time to have any sort of relationship, anyway.”

 

Spy was silent, and he nodded again. He yanked the third molar out, this time much quicker than the previous two. After a moment or two of silence, Spy broke the silence.

 

“I experienced quite a bit of homophobia in my youth, back in France. I find that peculiar, since France was more accepting of such things in the late 1600s. Something just switched, I suppose; and I learned the hard way the lesson about keeping your private affairs to yourself.”

 

Miss Pauling nodded. “It isn’t much better here, is it.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement; one that Spy, after a second of thought, slowly nodded his head to.

 

“Admittedly, I only find it better because I am no longer a target to a lot of people. Or, at least, I am for different reasons...” He chuckled.

 

Miss Pauling laughed along, too. It broke some of the tension in the room.

 

“But,” Spy said, and he took a deep breath. “But, that is not the same for other people.”

 

Miss Pauling nodded. “Yeah.”

 

Spy, now knowing what he was doing, had finished his first head. He tossed it, molar-less, into the bag on the ground, where three heads from Miss Pauling were already there. Spy grabbed a new one, this time grabbing the opposing Spy’s.

 

He stared at it for a while. The eyes, albeit much more dead, having the same resemblance as his own. The brow, the nose, the way the mouth contorted when Spy thumbed at its corners; it was as if he was staring into a mirror, but at the same time not quite so. The blue balaclava, so familiar under Spy’s gloved fingers, was identical to his own, if you excluded color. It was a BLU him, almost a clone, give or take.

 

Spy took a deep breath. “However,” he sighed, tracing the outline of the opposing Spy’s cheekbone, “despite how much I loathe the human race quite often, there’s no need to put homosexuality on the same level as murder.” He grabbed the pliers again and got to work.

“Agreed.” Miss Pauling sighed herself. She put her fourth head down, along with the pliers.

 

“Y’know, Spy, I really appreciate that we’re… on the same page with this sort of stuff, yeah?”

 

Spy fought back the smile on his face and nodded. “So am I.”

 

“It’s… nice… to have somebody that I can talk to about this sort of stuff, and they actually _understand_ , y’know?”

 

Spy nodded again. “Indeed. I’m happy we can have a sense of solidarity.”

 

Miss Pauling smiled, “Yeah,” And Spy let himself smile back. “Yeah.”

 

“Solidarity’s a good word for it.”


End file.
